Where The Wild Things Are
by Freida Right
Summary: Strange things are happening at Grammy's house, and cousins Maddie and Ginny-Ann keep getting blamed! But... Who's really causing all the trouble? Is it just a figment of their fancies, or is the house infested with REAL stitchpunks? Done at last!
1. June 10

Do crazy things happen in your house sometimes? Things that can't be explained? Things that you _know_ you didn't do, but no one else did so you get blamed anyway?

Welcome to mine and my cousin's summer so far.

We've been living at our grandmother's house for pretty much the whole month of June. I'm 18, so I've been doing yard work for her to earn some extra money. My cousin is only 10, but she's out of school and her mom is at work all day, so she hangs out and watches tv and stuff.

However, I've accidentally gotten her hooked on 9. I'd been telling her for months about it, and she finally rented it and we watched together. It was great: it got her thinking about stuff, and I _finally_ had someone to discuss the movie with.

But now she thinks that the house is infested with stitchpunks, because every time she turns around something strange has happened. And then _we_ get blamed for it! Of course we didn't do it, but… _who did?_ She blames 6 and 7; I'm not quite ready to blame fictitious characters for unexplainable phenomenon, but this house may make me a believer yet…

This is a roughly accurate account of these unusual happenings.

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_June 10_

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There was no one around on the second story; the nearest person was the young blonde girl called Ginny-Ann, but she was in the shower in the bathroom next door. Naturally, with no one around, 3, 4, and 6 wanted to run out of the room and go play in the well-lighted hallway. It was a decided improvement from the dark, stuffy attic-closet to which 1 had banished them all for "safety" reasons.

Of course, 1 wasn't going to accept this. So this time he drew the line—quite literally, across the carpeted doorway, in the most convincing material he could find: gold glitter.

"If any of you cross this line, you will _die_," he informed them all sternly.

It seemed to convince 3, 4, and 6—not the biggest feat or surprise in the world. The others, however, weren't very impressed—particularly not 7 and 9, who exchanged a this-has-got-to-stop-kind of look and marches straight up to the glitter-line together.

"It's just glitter; it's harmless," 9 scoffed in 1's face as he and 7 walked right through the line.

"Yeah; it's not going to kill any—" 7 started, but stopped. She and 9 suddenly started making strange gasping, chocking noises, clutching their throats and sides as if they were in terrible pain, finally collapsing on the floor and ceasing to move or breathe.

Needless to say, the others were all a little surprised and alarmed.

"You killed them!" 5 cried in dismay.

"Um… Yes—Yes! I killed them with my glitter! And unless the rest of you want to meet a similar end, I'd suggest you all—"

1's rant was interrupted by hysterical laughter behind him. He turned to look and found 9 and 7, very alive and laughing like maniacs at him.

"you _really_ thought we were dead!" 9 laughed.

"Zing!" 7 added

1 glared disdainfully at them. "I really don't like you," he growled.

They didn't really hear it. Another plan to control them foiled, the two younger stitchpunks got up and dashed to the nearby staircase, free to roam the big house as carefully s they could.

"Hey, wait for me," 5 called after them, running right over the glitter after his friends and knocking 1 over in the process.

"Rabble rousers," 1 muttered.

"When are you going to learn to leave them alone?" 2 asked.

"Never!"

"Good luck, then."

Satisfied that the glitter wouldn't kill them, 6 and the twins had escaped into the hall and squeezed into the nearby linen closet, where a little bird (named 8) had mentioned 1 found the glitter. Sure enough, the first thing they found on the floor was a big shaker bottle full of the delightful golden flecks. As it was too big for them to haul out upright, they knocked it over on its side and rolled it out of the closet.

Unfortunately, 1 hadn't closed the shaker, and as they rolled it they left little piles of glitter in their wake.

6 seemed to have a plan in mind for the glitter, but, as usual, he was too focused on it to explain it to anyone right away; so 3 and 4 watched quietly as he started sprinkling the glitter over the nearest doorways, trying to figure out what he was doing.

It didn't take 2 very long to notice and ask, "6, what are you doing?"

"It'll keep out the leprechauns," 6 answered quickly, barely looking up from his work.

Everyone stared blankly at him as he continued, humming quietly to himself.

Suddenly the bathroom door—the one doorway that 6 had missed—opened with a creaky noise and Ginny-Ann stepped out. Her short blonde hair was dripping but had been brushed neatly anyway, and she was wearing nothing but a fluffy yellow towel. All the stitchpunks realized with a bolt of panic that they were _all_ in the hallway and completely visible, and that if she turned around she would see them, and that no amount of gold glitter would save them.

However, Ginny-Ann didn't stop and turn around; instead she walked straight down the hall in the direction opposite them to the big room that she and he older cousin were sharing. Still not bothering to look over her shoulder or anything, she closed the door to the big room behind her and was gone. They all dared to breathe and relax just a little bit.

"All in favor of going back to the attic?" 2 asked.

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Aye!'

"Yes!"

"_Yes!"_

"_Yes!"_

And back into the attic-closet they ran before Ginny-Ann came back.

"I told you this was a bad idea," 1 scolded, pushing 2.

"Don't push me," 2 retorted.

The shaker of glitter was left open, precariously perched beside the banister of the staircase, the shiny dust showering out of the still-open shaker and spilling all over the lower steps below.

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"Maddie, Grammy wants to see us," Ginny-Ann called into the big room a little later.

Madeleine—or Maddie, as her friends and relatives knew her—was 8 years older than Ginny-Ann, her cousin of 10. She was staying weekdays with their grandparents, doing yard work and other such labor for extra money before she started college in July. Her starting school so early seemed to annoy her grandmother, as it meant that her services wouldn't be available for the whole summer as they had been in the past. Nonetheless, Maddie was a hard, cheerful worker, and she was determined to make the most of her time there.

Maddie was used to being summoned for her next assignment, though it was unusual for it to happen so late. Dinner had been served long ago, and she had been given leave to take a shower about two hours ago, which meant that she should have been closed for business until morning. She wondered what could be going on.

Ginny-Ann led her down the back staircase—for the big room had two different flights of stairs from different parts of the house—, though the house, and found their grandmother in the foyer, beside the other flight of stairs, looking a little annoyed.

"Who did this?" she asked, pointing to the lower steps. They were sprinkled with flecks of gold, as if fairies had been there.

"It's all upstairs too, in the doorways," Grammy added.

"Really?" Maddie asked, jogging up the stairs to look. Sure enough, three out of five doors had glitter in neat little lines in front of the door.

"It looks like a magical warding rite from a fantasy book, to keep out evil spirits or something," she noted.

"Did one of you do this?" Grammy demanded.

"They weren't there when I took a shower," Maddie insisted.

"I didn't see them either when I took one either," Ginny-Ann added.

"I mean, we all knew there was a thing of gold glitter in the linen closet," Maddie continued. "It's always been there; we just never knew where it went, so we just left it alone. But I certainly didn't touch it."

"I didn't touch either," Ginny-Ann insisted.

"Well _someone_ must have done it," Grammy said.

"I'll bet it was the twins, or 6," Ginny-Ann suddenly suggested.

"What are you talking about?" Grammy asked.

Maddie leaned over the banister and eyed her cousin quizzically. "You mean they guys from '9'?"

"Yeah! I'll bet they're trying to make us look like fools or something."

"You're joking, right?"

"Oh, of course. But wouldn't it be funny?"

"Maybe…"

"Well someone's got to clean all this glitter up, and it's _not_ going to be me," Grammy said. "First thing tomorrow, I want you two to vacuum this mess up, understand?"

"Of course," Maddie agreed as cheerfully as she could. It wasn't much work, and it would take less than five minutes, but it still peeved her a little bit. Who had done this? She was sure it hadn't been Ginny-Ann; she had watched her little cousin walk right into the shower, and she hadn't heard the door open again for another 30 minutes afterward. (And Ginny-Ann had a bad habit of slamming doors.)

Grammy went back into the living room and Ginny-Ann joined Maddie at the top of the stairs.

"Wouldn't it be cool, if the guys were hiding in our house?" Ginny-Ann asked again. "Maybe we could catch them!"

"Yeah, sure," Maddie agreed with a laugh, still under the impression that they were enjoying an inside joke.

They walked back into the big room, unaware of several sets of guilty eyes watching them from the attic-closet.

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Author's Notes…

This is basically how it all began. We had watched the movie the night before, and she was hooked. I don't think she was really joking—I don't think she ever was. -.-0

Trust me: it only gets worse from here. DX


	2. June 14

This one didn't really happen, but it's funny anyway.

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_June 14_

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It was either very late or very early. Maddie and Ginny-Ann were both zonked out on the Carolina room sofa, exhausted after a late night movie and, in Maddie's case, a long, hard day of work.

When it became obvious that the two girls were as sound asleep as they could get, the stitchpunks all decided to take advantage of the TV and DVD player, which were both already on, and the half-eaten bowl of popcorn on the nearby coffee table. The DVD player had gone into screensaver mode, but it took a few buttons of the remote control to start the DVD again. To their excitement, it turned out to be "9", which Ginny-Ann's mother hadn't returned to the video store yet.

So all nine of them sat on the coffee table and watched their own movie. It was action-packed and emotionally charged, and it kept 6 and the twins on the edge of their seats, but the others sort of lost interest half-way through.

"This movie is _totally_ unrealistic," 5 complained flatly, unimpressed by his own death scene.

"Try not to distract me, please," 7 requested rigidly. She was balancing a fluffy piece of popcorn on her nose while 9 and 2 kept time for her. "How long has it been?" she asked.

"About three minutes," 2 answered.

"I'm shooting for 10," she informed.

"You're neck is _really_ going to hurt," 9 warned.

"Don't bother me with details."

"You know what else is wrong with this movie? There's not enough romance," 5 added, mostly in 9 and 7's general direction.

"What are talking about? There's plenty of romance," 7 said defensively.

On the other side of the popcorn bowl, 1 scoffed at the argument. "Feh. Simpering, mincing female…"

"I heard that! If I lose this balance, I'm going to kill you!"

"…"

In the meantime, 6 and the twins were sitting in the popcorn bowl, enraptured by the movie and oblivious to the others squabbling. It was the scene on the bridge, the Machine was catching up on them, and 6 suddenly got the horrible feeling that he was about to die.

"I'm scared…" he whimpered, shrinking back slightly. He wanted to tear his googley eyes away from the screen, but for some reason he just couldn't.

Of course, 8 got a great idea for a mean prank to pull on 6—it would scare the crap out of 3 and 4 as well, a nice bonus. While the three of them remained fixated on the movie, 8 snuck up behind the bowl and… just as the Machine came up behind and snatched 6 out of the air in the movie…

"RAAAARRR!"

6 and the twins all screamed and jumped, making the popcorn bowl topple off the table, taking them with it and finally getting everyone else's attention. The bowl landed upside down on the floor, popcorn spilled all over the place, and the three terrified stitchpunks trapped under it.

"Help!" 6 hollered from inside. "It smells like fake butter in here!"

Amazingly, Maddie and Ginny-Ann didn't even stir.

Abandoning the popcorn-balancing act, 7 and 9 were the first two on the floor trying to turn the bowl back over, with 2 and 5 close behind them. Together, the four of them finally tipped it back and it rolled away and revealed their friends, all covered in popcorn debris and butter dust.

"Are you alright?" 2 asked.

"Yes…" 6 whimpered. He looked like he might start to cry.

"Maybe it's time to turn the movie off," 7 suggested. Everyone nodded in agreement.

She turned to cast an angry glare at 8, but he and 1 had mysteriously vanished. She rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise.

"Typical…"

"What are we going to do about this mess?" 5 asked.

There was an awkward silence.

"They can clean it up," 7 pointed out, jerking her thumb at the sleeping girls, ready to get out before someone woke up and found them.

"That isn't fair," 2 protested. "They got in trouble for the glitter mess before; they'll get in trouble for this too."

But before the argument could go any farther, Ginny-Ann suddenly started to wake up. The seven of them panicked, and even 2 decided to run before the girl saw him.

Ginny-Ann was barely awake for a few seconds before turning over and falling back to sleep.

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"Madeleine! Geneva-Ann! Wake up this instant!"

Maddie and Ginny-Ann bolted awake. It was about 7 in the morning, and they were still on the couch. Grammy stood towering over them, furious.

"Look at this mess!" she continued, gazing angrily around the room. The girls stared after her: the popcorn bowl had been knocked over on the floor, miraculously landing upright, but all its uneaten contents were spilled on the rug. Greasy smudges had been smeared haphazardly all over the glass coffee table. The TV and DVD player were still on, though it had long ago gone into screensaver mode.

"I'm not going to allow you to make any popcorn or watch anymore TV if you keep this up," Grammy warned. "I might expect this from five-year-old, but this is just ridiculous! Maddie, you should know better!"

Still not quite awake, Maddie tried to defend herself. "But we didn't—"

"No buts! Now clean this mess up _right_ now!"

"Yes, Grammy…"

Grammy stormed away, muttering that she had _too_ much work to do to put up with this, leaving Maddie and Ginny-Ann to find the vacuum cleaner and a bottle of Windex. Maddie vacuumed in silence, trying to puzzle things out. Thinking back to last night, the last thing she could clearly remember was 7 showing up in the church and thinking—as 9 hung on to a needle stuck in her leg for dear life—that he wasn't scoring very well with her. After that, Maddie had fallen asleep and had a long, lovely dream about hanging out by the pool with her own boyfriend, on the newly painted deck—which _she_ had painted, thank you very much.

_Darned "9" bender,_ she thought as she turned off the vacuum. _This movie is really starting to eat my brain…_

"I'll bet they enjoyed the movie," Ginny-Ann mentioned.

"Huh?"

"9 and the others. I'll bet they enjoyed the movie, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure."

"And of course they left us another mess to get in trouble for and clean up."

"Maybe… If they were all _really_ in the house, 2 probably wouldn't have let them do that."

"Maybe they're all actually living at the library across the street—you know, 'cause the twins love to read? But sometimes maybe 7 and 6 sneak out and come over here to bug us, and everyone always leaves 5 and 9 home with the twins, and they're all like, "Aw, why do _we_ always get left with the kids?'"

Maddie listened patiently, amused at the little alternate-universe that Ginny-Ann had created, but also slightly worried. Ginny-Ann was starting to take this a little too seriously.

_And I thought that_ I _ was a "9" fangirl…_

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The next one is real; honest.


	3. June 16

And now the _fun_ begins!

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_June 16_

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Two days had passed since the popcorn incident. 7 was now officially bored with the second story and was trying to figure out which staircase from the big room was the safest to descend without detection. For the most part, the others were happy to stay in the big room while the girls were out: Maddie was in the yard, raking leaves and putting pine straw down in the flower beds, and Ginny-Ann had a doctor's appointment today.

But when 7 mentioned going downstairs, 6 and 8 suddenly decided they wanted to go with her. She was glad of the company, though her friends were a little concerned.

"They know we're here; they'll be looking for us," 9 pointed out.

"The only one who _really_ thinks we're here is Ginny-Ann," 7 countered. "Everyone else thinks she's being silly."

"What if someone sees you anyway?"

"They won't. Come on, you two, it's _us_," she insisted, meaning herself, 6 and 8.

"That's not comforting at all," 5 protested.

"Relax; you're both worrying too much," she said with a winning smile.

Dang; whenever she smiled voluntarily like that, there was nothing that they could do.

"…Just be careful, alright?" 9 said after a pause.

"Always," she agreed, stepping forward and giving his a quick kiss on the cheek. "You know that in real life, I like you an awful lot," she added flirtatiously. Then she and her companions dashed off to the staircase.

"What are we going to do with her?" 9 wondered out loud.

"Live with her," 5 suggested flatly, walking off to return to whatever it was he was doing.

Meanwhile, 6, 7 and 8 all skipped down the back staircase, happy to be getting back out. But when they got to the stairwell—which stood to the side of the kitchen dining area, they stopped. There were voices outside, which they hadn't expected. They all stuck their heads halfway out of the door to try and get a better look.

Just outside, sitting on bar stools at the kitchen counter, a filthy Maddie was carrying on a conversation with Ginny-Ann.

"I thought she was leaving," said 8, who was secretly crushing on the blonde girl.

"Guess she hasn't left yet," 7 answered. "Now hush; I'm trying to hear what they're saying."

"Sorry…"

"Shhhh!"

"…"

"—and I want to see if I can custom order balloons too," Ginny-Ann was saying.

"That could be expensive," Maddie answered.

"I know, but it would be totally worth it. Oh! And I'm going to get a piñata!"

"A piñata? Really? I haven't done a piñata since I was, like, 14! I _love_ piñatas _so_ much."

"I love them too! I was trying to find one that looks like 1, but I couldn't. So guess what I'm going to do?"

"Wait a minute… Say that again?"

(sigh) "You know 1, from '9'?"

"Yeah; of course."

"I want a piñata with _him_ on it!"

While Maddie suddenly burst out laughing, 6 asked, "What's a piñata?"

7 and 8 shrugged.

"Gin, that's hilarious!" Maddie exclaimed.

"I know, but I couldn't find one that looked like him. So guess what I'm doing instead?"

"Tell me."

"They make piñatas that are, like, just round and colorful but aren't really shaped like anything, so you print out a picture and glue it to the piñata instead. Well, my mom got one of those; so I'm going to print out a picture of 1 and stick it on the piñata! Then we can _finally_ beat him to death with a stick!"

"And eat his guts," Maddie added. "This is going to be the _best_ birthday party ever!"

(Insert maniacal girlish laughter here.)

The stitchpunks still didn't know exactly what a piñata was, but it sounded like it had something to do with beating 1 with a stick so it _must_ be something good.

"_I_ want a piñata," 7 muttered. "How can I get one?"

"Let's ask the twins," 6 suggested.

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The party's early return surprised everyone, though it obviously didn't bother them. Happily, 3 and 4 knew exactly what a piñata was.

"_A piñata is a party game that originated in Mexico,"_ 3 explained in flicker-speak while 4 projected several pictures and some film footage onto the wall as her brother spoke. _"It's a large hollow figure made of paper, filled with candy and other stuff that humans like. To play, you blindfold the players, often spinning them around several times, and then have them whack at the piñata with a stick until it breaks open. Traditionally, they're shaped like bulls and birds and other animals like that, but you shape them to look like anything, if you know how to make one. It's pretty messy, I understand."_

3's speech over, 4 shut off her projector and stumbled awkwardly back into her brother's arms.

"_That's always so draining…"_ she mumbled dizzily.

"Ginny-Ann said that she was getting a round-shaped one," 7 explained, "but that she was going to—" She stopped mid sentence fell on her knees laughing. 6 and 8 also started laughing, in on the joke where the others weren't.

"She's going to _what_?" 5 asked.

"She's gonna put _1_ on it!" 7 laughed.

"…_How?"_ asked the twins in unison.

"Wouldn't she have to catch him first?" 9 asked, not entirely sure where this was going, or if he should be laughing or not.

"No, no, you see—she's going to _print_ a picture of him off the computer over there, and then she's going to stick it on the piñata, and then they're… Don't you get it?"

Everyone shook their heads and looked at her as if she were crazy.

7 sighed. "They're going to put the picture of 1 _on_ the piñata, and then they're going to _smash_ it with a stick until it breaks open. Get it now?"

The gears clicked together in their heads and at last they realized what 7 was trying to say. The whole group dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.

"That's funny!" 2 gasped. "That's really, _really_ funny!"

"Can _we_ do that too?" 5 asked.

Just then, 1 walked in and saw them all laughing like maniacs.

"What is going on in here?" he demanded, but they were all laughing too hard to hear him. He made an annoyed noise and walked back out.

"Feh; freaks," he grumbled. "Do they know how _ridiculous_ they look?"

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Author's Notes…

Yeah; my cousin is SO hooked that she insisted on a "9"-themed birthday party for her tenth birthday. It wasn't quite as "9"-themed as we had wanted (she was also going to make 7-placemats, which never got done), but it was still a lot of fun. XD


	4. June 21

Sort of longer, character building chapter today. 6 and 8 both have a little more to say now and, lol, new pairing. XD Try and guess what it is—it's _not_ yaoi _or_ yuri, which ought to limit the possibilities a bit.

Note: 6 isn't _quite_ as crazy here as he is in the movie. Like 5 said, the movie was _totally_ unrealistic.

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_June 21_

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It was Monday—Maddie's first day on the job for the week. As usual, she got out of bed at a lazy but nice 8:00, and then went down the hall to the bathroom to take out her retainer and fix her hair in a messy tangle on top of her head, up off her neck and back, and mostly out of her face. Then she went back to the big room for her water bottle, and to check the time on her phone. It was 8:10.

_There is _no_ way it takes me 10 whole minutes to take out a stupid retainer and twist a hair tie into my hair,_ she thought, closing her phone and jogging down the back staircase.

She walked behind the kitchen counter to the pantry for her usual breakfast fare—Coco Puffs and 2%—and came back for a bowl, located in the cabinets above the counter.

That's when she noticed all the pieces of paper strewn over the counter. Each one had several pictures on it, all of them found through the Google image search, all of various stitchpunks—but mostly of 1.

_How late was Gin up doing these?_ Maddie wondered, looking over into the living room for her cousin. Ginny-Ann was dozing on the couch in front of the TV.

Maddie rolled her eyes, stacked the sheets of pictures neatly—stopping occasionally to smile at the ones of 6 and the twins—and set them all to one side so she wouldn't spill her breakfast on them.

_This party planning thing is starting to get just a little bit out of hand,_ she thought as she mixed her cereal around in the milk, waiting for it to get soft.

With all the pictures out of the way, only one small sheet of notepaper remained on the counter. It was a list of the things she needed to do that day:

1. Put cypress mulch in the front flower beds.

2. Plant new flowers.

3. Touch up paint trim in the screen room.

4. Blow leaves out of pool area.

5. Finish painting deck.

Maddie sighed and took her first big bite of cereal. Her work was cut out for her, and it was all fairly easy, but she really had to marvel at her grandmother. The family was coming in a few weeks—which meant between 15 and 25 people living in the house at the same time for half a month or more—and this was the cause of all her labor. Every year she came to re-mulch, replace dying plants with new ones, re-paint the entire deck, and this year even put new red-rock gravel on the many gravel paths in the large, park-like backyard.

No one would notice or even care if none of these things got done. But Grammy was fanatic about creating the _perfect_ family experience. That meant that every little thing had to look _exactly_ the way the family remembered it from last summer.

Not that they would particularly remember the color the deck was before…

It especially peeved Maddie that, since she was starting college the first week of family visiting, she would hardly get to enjoy them this year. All the fun outings, TV marathons, shopping trips, and hours of chit-chat with her cousins, _gone_. Her charming little cousins, who were growing up so fast, _missed_. Her aunts and uncles who loved her so much, forced to miss her some _more_.

She had spent her whole month so far making everything _perfect_ for everyone, and she wasn't even going to get to enjoy it?

Maddie finished her cereal, drank the chocolaty milk, and put the bowl and spoon into the sink. She jogged back upstairs, where she changed into her working clothes and set out to start mulching.

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From the twin bedroom—no longer warded by glitter for leprechauns—9, 7 and 5 watched Maddie working in the dirt two stories below.

"She seems angry today," 5 noted. "I wonder why?"

"The work doesn't look like any fun," 7 suggested. "It's hot, it's dirty, that mulch looks _full_ of splinters—I'd be pretty mad if I had to do that too."

"I don't know, 7; I think it's something else…"

"She's probably got splinters in her hands and it hurts."

"It's not the mulch!"

"Oh…"

"Maybe she's tired," 9 suggested. "She's been working pretty hard these past few weeks, after all."

5 sighed, frustrated with his friends. "It's not the work; I think she actually likes the work. I mean, she seems pretty happy most of the time."

"So why would she be angry?" 7 asked.

"I don't know; I'm just getting this funny feeling that she isn't so happy today. I haven't seen her _unhappy_ since she came."

"It might have something to do with the fact that she's out in the hot sun, digging in the dirt all day, while her grandparents work inside, with the air conditioning," 9 suggested, looking around at the state of the twin room. Grammy's clothes were laid out over the beds, and boxes full of her things were stacked on the floor. On the first floor, Grammy and Granddad had taken their master bedroom apart and were completely making it over. All the stitchpunks had seen it: as of this day, all the wallpaper had come down, and the old couple was going to pick up the paint later this week. The old carpet—which, like the wallpaper, had been there since the 60's or 70's—had been pulled up, and the carpet people would come bring the new carpet in early July. In the meantime, all the furniture had been moved into a closet, their waterbed moved into the Carolina room until the new carpet was installed.

To the nine of them, this work looked a lot less strenuous than what Maddie and her young back and legs had to do in the yard. But Grammy and Granddad carried on about it like it was an arduous chore

"Such complaining," 2 had said the other day. "If _I _had been in charge of that room, all that work would have been done by now. I have half a mind to march up to them and talk some sense into them."

(Of course, 2 was smarter and more courteous than that; so, while it still drove him mad, he stayed his tongue.)

"I hope she hurries up and gets happy again," 5 muttered. "Seeing her upset like this is really strange…"

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The big room had a nice little window that looked out on the backyard. With the curtains drawn back, sunshine came pouring in on the little writing table against the wall; this was where 6 and the twins spent most of their time when no one was around. There were pens, pencils and paper, and even an old Foldger's tin full of crayons which kept them busy for most of the day. So long as they weren't too loud and didn't leave any of their drawings behind, no one would ever know they were there.

8 joined them today, though he was busy looking out the window.

"_What are you looking at?"_ 4 flickered.

"Nothing," 8 grunted defensively.

That always meant "something". 6 came up to the window and looked out. Below in the yard, Ginny-Ann was sitting in the cool grass, in the shade of a tree, reading a book.

"She's cute," he remarked.

"Get your googley eyes off her!" 8 demanded, raising his fist.

6 shrunk away, throwing his hands over his face. "Okay, okay! They're off! Just _please_ don't hit my face again!" he pleaded.

Well, if he did hit 6 again, 7 would come and pound him with a spear, and that didn't sound like much fun. 8 Lowered his fist and 6 slinked back to his drawing.

"_He's weird,"_ 3 flickered. 4 and 6 nodded in agreement.

Since he was sitting right next to her, 6 looked over at what 4 was drawing. She was lying on her belly, the broken –off point of a black crayon in hand, doodling a black-and-white portrait of the three of them. She almost never used the other colors: she claimed that there were too many to choose from. A far cry from her twin, who _found _a use for every color in everything he drew.

"It looks good," he told her, and then selected a coppery orange crayon from their pile.

If 4 were human, she would have blushed bright red. _"Thanks,"_ she flickered. She felt pathetic next to 6; he was a much better artist than she. While she doodled little stick figures in black and white, he had drawn yet _another_ picture of the Source, and was professionally filling in the different sections with color. Not that it hadn't looked real in the past, but with the benefit of color it jumped off the paper now.

"_Yours is better than mine,"_ she commented.

Not sure how to respond without sounding conceited, 6 gave her a quick goofy smile and then returned to his work.

"I wish I were better at drawing pleasant things," he answered after a while. "I like drawing the Source; the circles are fun. Everything else looks too hard."

"_Draw a flower,"_ 4 suggested. _"That's simple __and__ pleasant."_

It was a good idea. 6 pushed his drawing to the side and grabbed a new sheet of paper. He wiggled the fingers on his left hand for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and began to draw the simple, mostly round shapes of a daisy. It was a lot more thoughtful than he had expected, but not difficult. When he finished the outline, he colored the stem green and the center yellow, like a real daisy… But there was something missing…

Its wasn't colorful enough. He grabbed the magenta crayon and colored the blank petals in. He sat back on his knees and admired it: it was _great_.

"What do you think?" he asked the twins, holding it up for them to see.

"_Hey! It's not the Source,"_ noted 3, who hadn't really been paying attention.

"_I like the pink," _4 added sweetly.

That was sort of a surprise. Given the fact that she never used the colored crayons, 6 didn't think she would like it that much.

"Thank you… Do you want it?"

"_Sure."_

He handed the daisy to her and then picked his crayon back up, intent on finishing his last drawing, which was only half-way colored. Drawing nice things was fun, and he wanted to draw some more flowers, but he hated leaving his work unfinished. For a few minutes he was totally focused: left-handed and pen nibs for fingers, he was the happiest misunderstood visionary in the world.

Then 4 suddenly reached over and grabbed his free hand in hers, and his focus broke.

"You'll get ink stains on your hand," he mentioned.

"_I don't mind,"_ she answered with her usual sweet smile. She slid over very close to him, unabashedly resting her head on his shoulder, and continuing to draw as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

6 wasn't used to people being this close to him, but this… was kind of nice. He rested his head lightly on top of hers and they continued their work in happy silence.

Meanwhile, 3 was totally oblivious and 8 felt just a little jealous, though it wasn't like he was going to tell any of _them_. He stared back out the window and pouted, pretending like he hadn't noticed.

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Author's Notes…

_**THIS**_ is the 2,000th word of the story! Good for me. XD

Sorry about the venting on y'all in the first part of the story. Just a little frustration spilling out, that's all. It's done now, and that's the important thing; and at least I got paid a total of $360 for the whole month. Not half bad, I should say.

4/6 could theoretically be yaoi in someone else's fic; but in _my_ stories, 4 is a girl so it works for me here. I think it's utterly adorable! Wait 'till you see what they do _next_ chapter! ;)


	5. June 23

Well… 1's got to find out about the piñata _sometime_…

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_June 23_

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It was evening, and the stitchpunks were all back in the attic-closet for the night. It was nice to be all in one place; they had spent so much of that month running amuck in the large house.

"I guess I never thought about it before," 2 was musing, "but I've seen so little of you all these past few weeks. I've missed you all."

"Even 1?" 9 asked.

"No, no, of course not _him_. I can't get away from him."

Everyone laughed and sat down in sort of a circle—except, of course, for nonplussed 1, who stayed as far away from them as he could get.

"So, what's new?" 5 asked the group. "Anyone do anything interesting today?"

"I killed a roach," 7 said proudly. "He was blocking my way, like he was trying to attack me or something, so I speared him. I liked the part where he stopped moving."

"I found a quarter," 9 said, unzipping his zipper and pulling the large, shiny silver coin out of his body cavity. "It was just lying around on the floor in the big room, so I picked it up."

"Is it heavy?" 7 asked.

"A little."

"But you're strong, so you're alright, right?"

"Oh, of course."

"I knew it," she agreed, sliding closer to him and snuggling happily into his arms.

"You're both weird," 5 remarked. "Hey, 6, did you draw anything good today?"

6 had a stack of the pictures he and the twins had drawn, and he pulled out his favorite one to show everybody. "It's the dog from Johnny Test! It was on TV today; Ginny-Ann was watching it and—"

"Were you looking at Ginny-Ann again?" 8 hollered at 6, who jumped away from him.

"No! I was watching the TV with 3 and 4, I swear! _Please_ don't hit me!"

7 jumped up out of 9's arms and stared imposingly at 8. "8, go sit in that corner and stare at the wall, and _don't_ come back until we tell you to," she commanded, pointing to a dark corner nearby.

8 rolled his eyes at her, but sitting in the corner still beat her 10,000 screaming spears of doom. (It would be a shame to end up like that roach and never get to _actually_ talk to Ginny-Ann.)

"Yes ma'am," he said dejectedly and trudged to the corner.

"It's funny," 7 said. "Every time someone mentions her name, 8 goes nuts. I wonder why…?"

Just then, there was a rumbling in the wall; it was the pipes to the shower next door. And then they heard music.

"Sounds like Maddie took her music player into the shower again," 5 noted. "She's been favoring Lady Gaga lately…"

While everyone else continued to chat and listened to the music, 6 sat between the twins, and the three of them watched the others together.

"_The dog you drew is really good,"_ 3 mentioned to 6. _"I wish __I__ could draw like that."_

"It's not hard," 6 insisted.

"_Yeah, but _you_ have pen nibs for fingers; and you're left-handed. All the best artists are left-handed…"_

"You can still be a good artist too; either of you could be, if you really wanted to. All you need to do is practice."

"_Nah; we'll never be as good as you."_

"Maybe it's not the artist whose drawing is most accurate who's the best, but the one who tried the hardest and worked really hard," 6 suggested.

"…_You think so?"_

"Sure."

"_That's really deep,"_ 4 complimented, scooting closer to him.

"_Maybe you're right,"_ 3 said pensively. _"That's it: from now on, I'm going to practice harder than ever and be the best artist in the country!"_

"Good for you!"

"_I'm going to show the others one of __my__ drawings,"_ he decided and fished one of his pictures out of the stack. He left 4 and 6 alone and ran to join the rest of the group.

"_Thanks for cheering 3 up,"_ 4 said to him.

6 smiled, and then remembered something. "I made something for you," he said to her, reaching into a pocket in his leg.

"_For me? Really?"_

Out of his pocket, 6 produced a strand of seed beads on a piece of thick black thread; at their size, it was like a thick, sturdy cord. A turquoise bead in the shape of a star sat strikingly at its center, with various mismatched beads flanking it symmetrically. He had tied knots at the ends of the seed beads to keep them from moving around, and then joined the ends of thread together in another knot to form a circle.

"It's a necklace," he informed her, slipping it over her head. "7's got earrings on her helmet, and she looks so pretty; I thought you might like something too."

The star pendant hung halfway down 4's chest, partially obstructing her number. She held the star in her hands and examined it quickly. It wasn't real turquoise; it was probably glass or something else, but it was beautiful, with little veins of brown streaking through it. Though few of the beads were the same color, they sparkled brilliantly in her flickering eye-light.

"_It's beautiful,"_ she said, so touched she felt like her heart was breaking. _"I love it! I… I don't know what to say, or how to thank you."_

"…There is something."

"_Yes? Anything; anything at all,"_ she insisted.

"If you could… maybe… let me kiss you?"

4 wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but this wasn't it; this was at least 1,000 times better! Too thrilled for words, she beamed and nodded her head excitedly.

4 closed her eyes and waited, so tense she couldn't have moved if she had wanted to. She felt 6 lean over very close to her and, to her utter shock, he pressed his lips against hers—not her check, like she had expected. He held the kiss only for a few brief seconds, but it seemed like a very long time to 4.

"…_Wow…"_ she whispered with a happy, nervous giggle. _"…That was my first kiss…!"_

"Mine too," 6 said with a sheepish smile.

"_I'm glad it was with you, 6."_

"Me too—but, about you."

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To say that the prizes 9 and 6 had found were "just lying around" wouldn't be completely true. 9's shiny quarter and 6's beads all belonged in truth to Maddie, who was tearing her half of the big room apart looking for the missing items. All while dressed in nothing but a bath towel and her wet hair dripping in her eyes.

Maddie was into beads. She made jewelry with needles and thread and tiny seed beads. She had brought one of her kits to Grammy's house to work on in her spare time, though most of her family seemed pretty dubious about whether she could make any kind of living with her unusual craft. As she worked, her beads often fell on the floor, and spare threads usually found their way to the floor as well.

The star-shaped beads, however, were more expensive and far more important. Maddie had bought a set of 10 for something special; she had used most of them and only had two left. She wasn't sure what she would do with them, though she was sure that she would get an idea while she worked in the yard. She left them in her workspace on the floor, safe in the knowledge that none of her family had any use for them and would, therefore, leave them alone.

However, while she had been out, 6 had wandered into her area of the room. Of course, upon seeing the beads and bits of thread just lying on the floor, his first thought was that 4 would _love_ them. He formed a rough vision of the necklace in his head—five seed beads on either side of one of those pretty star beads on a strand of black thread—and began collecting what he needed from the floor, thinking only of his mission to impress his beloved and not for a moment that the beads might actually belong to someone.

As for the quarter, Maddie had carefully counted the spare change in her wallet and the result was exactly two dollars in silver coins: just enough to buy a giant chocolate bar the next time she went to the store. The Piggly Wiggly was about five minutes away on a bike, so she was frequently sent for last minute things like lunch meat and Coco Puffs. Having worked so hard for the whole month, and feeling pretty tired of her family, she felt that she had earned a treat.

She had left the coins on her bed, but in her rushing around that morning one quarter had fallen underneath her bed, where 9 had subsequently found it when he came to get 6.

Therefore, both their women were highly impressed with them, but Maddie was quite sure that she was losing her mind. 25 cents short wasn't so bad; she could still buy a small Hershey's bar and have enough for sales tax. But she had _no_ idea where that stupid quarter could have gone! She was _sure_ that she had counted two dollars on the nose…

_I hate this house…_

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3 was still showing off his latest works of art to the group. So far, they all seemed to like his work, and they were all happy he had found new confidence in his artistic abilities. It was nice to see him and 4 getting their noses out of their books and actually _doing_ something for a change. What parent wouldn't give an arm and a leg for kids who loved to read? But reading was all the twins _ever_ did. So while, between the two of them and 6, they drew enough scribbles to wallpaper the entire closet, it made their guardians happy.

"_Oh, and I think this one is __really__ my favorite,"_ he said as he pulled out the fifth or sixth _really_ favorite picture he had done. _"Look! It's 2 and 7 beating up the 1 piñata!"_

Indeed it was. The round piñata was in the center, with a tiny little picture that they couldn't even see taped to the front, the way 7 had described it would be. 2 and 7 flanked it with maniacal grins scribbled on their faces, though 2 had a blow torch and 7 had a chainsaw.

"_You can't really see the picture of 1 on the piñata, though,"_ 3 apologized. _"I drew the piñata too small…"_

It didn't really matter: his audience fell over laughing. Literally—2 fell over backward and 7 was starting to hyperventilate. Still staring at the wall in his corner, even 8 was snickering to himself.

The only one who didn't find it amusing was 1, who was listening and watching with growing horror.

"…What is this?" he demanded.

The laughter started dying down as they all realized that they never did tell 1 about the piñata. It was kind of awkward—okay, _a lot_ awkward—but the jig was up. Explainin'-time was at hand.

"A piñata," 5 explained as he caught his breath, "is a big paper container filled with stuff, that you beat with a stick until it breaks open."

"Ginny-Ann's having a birthday party in a few days, and she's got a piñata," 3 added helpfully.

"What does this have to do with me?"

7 snorted, trying not to laugh; she wanted the pleasure of delivering the grim news. "They're… They're putting a picture of _you_ on it! They're going to beast you to death with a big stick and eat whatever falls out!"

Once again, the other eight stitchpunks erupted in uncontrollable laughter, but 1 felt faint and just a little nauseous.

"This… This can't be!"

"Oh yes, it can," 9 corrected. "On the 30th of June, you die."

"The 30th…" 1 paused to count on his fingers. "That's only a week away! We have to do something!"

"Knock yourself out, mate," 2 said passively. "We'll be here when you get from trying, okay?"

Well, it was clear that _these_ losers weren't going to be much help—even 8 seemed to be in on the joke. 1 sulked off into the shadows to plot how he would foil Ginny-Ann's birthday party and prevent the piñata from being beaten.

Or, at least, to plot his revenge…

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Author's Notes…

Haha, I hate writing fluffy junk like that. And I also hate how things in my grandmother's house vanish if you turn your back for a few seconds. What I _don't_ hate is my college, where I am starting on Monday. Wish me luck!

Only a few chapters left, and they should be shorter than these last two.


	6. June 26

Today, a computer lesson… Stitchpunk style!

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_June 26_

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Only four days remained until the 30th. Without the help of one of the burlap-made geniuses, 1 had still failed to come up with any promising ideas for wrecking the party. He had come up with several that he liked, but none of them would do; if he called a contractor and asked to borrow a wrecking ball and a bulldozer for an hour or two, for instance, no one would take him seriously. He wouldn't have taken himself seriously either.

Everyone's teasing wasn't helping much either. While he sulked in his corner of the closet, trying to concoct his brilliant scheme, everyone else was outside acting like the fools they were. Occasionally, 2 or 5 might come back for something and, on the way out, peer into the shadows at him and ask, "Any ideas yet?"

Yesterday, 1 actually screamed at 5 to get the hell out, and then threw something on the floor at him. Everyone that evening avoided 1 as best they could.

The final kick in the teeth came from the fact that 8 suddenly didn't want to help him. In fact, he seemed a little insulted that 1 wanted to ruin the party, though of course he refused to say why.

Utterly failed, and no one with him to blame the failing on, 1 decided on the afternoon of the 26th to take a walk. Just to the big room door and back; maybe being out in the light would illumine him. He walked casually down the hallway, making it last as long as he could, and willing himself to come up with something brilliant—something that would make all of 2's planning and scheming look like the work of a retarded kindergartener. But when he finally reached the door, he _still_ had nothing.

However, he suddenly saw his chance for success. The untidy computer area was right beside the door—the doorway where he was standing mostly and thankfully blocked by the huge computer desk. And Ginny-Ann was all by herself, focused on her mouse-clicking and occasional typing.

Figuring that she was too focused to notice if he ran across the floor, 1 dashed through the door, as quickly as he could to the backside of the office chair she was sitting in, where she couldn't see him.

"Psst! 1! Get over here, _now_!"

1 looked over in the direction of the whispering and saw 2 and 7 hiding under the printer table. Not that he wanted to hide with them or that he was particularly afraid of the human girl, but he walked over to join them.

"What's going on?" he asked at a normal volume.

"Shhh! Shut up!" 7 hissed. "If she hears us, you're dead!"

"Sorry, sorry," 1 muttered, lowering his voice.

"She came running up the stairs, without any kind of warning," 2 explained, jerking his thumb at Ginny-Ann. "We all had to run for cover before she saw us. Actually, the running for cover part's never so bad; they do this a lot, so we're kind of used to it."

"But _now_, we're stuck here until she leaves," 7 added dryly.

"What is she doing?" 1 asked.

"How should we know? And why do _you_ want to?" 2 retorted suspiciously.

Ginny-Ann suddenly gasped and burst out into a fit of giggles.

"Teehee; this one's _perfect_," she declared, making several clicks in rapid succession.

The three watched her working for a moment; she seemed just a little more maniacal than before. Then she got up from the chair and headed for the stairs.

"As far as I know, she's looking at pictures on the internet," 7 offered. Now that Ginny-Ann was gone, the stopped whispering and spoke at a normal volume.

"Pictures of what?"

"Pictures of us—and some are pretty lousy. Why?"

Finally, at long, long last, 1 had a light bulb moment. He could even hear the happy dinging noise in his head.

"Does anyone know how to work the computer?" he asked.

"No," 2 answered quickly.

A little _too_ quickly…

"Don't lie to me. You do _so_ know how to work it."

"…Yeah, I do," 2 grudgingly admitted. "But there's _no_ way I'm showing you how to use it."

"2, I will _never_ speak to you again if you show me how to use it."

"Come right this way and we'll get started, then," 2 said with a cooperative smile and led the way. 1 ran after him, happy that his plan was going so well so far.

"Oh dear," 7 muttered as they climbed into the office chair. She ran to catch up with them, saying, "Um, 2? I know that I'm not as smart as you or 9, or even 5, really, but this is a _bad_ idea. I personally would advise against it."

"I know, I know; and I'll probably regret it in an hour," 2 agreed as he and 1 jumped up onto the desk. "But if this guy never talks to me again, I think it will be worth it."

"Oh, bad idea, bad idea, _bad_ idea…" 7 muttered from the floor and went to go find help.

On the computer, several minimized tabs lined the bottom of the screen, hailing from My Pictures and Google. 2 couldn't move the mouse on his own; though they hated it, 1 and 2 had to work together, with 2 mostly directing its movement. The cursor moved across the screen to the My Pictures tab.

"Now hit the button on your side," 2 directed.

"What?"

2 sighed. "See these two buttons? There's one on my side and one on your side. Hit the one on _your_ side—the right."

1 didn't like doing what 2 said, but he hit the button anyway, overwhelmed by a curiosity he hadn't known he was capable of. When he clicked the button on the tab, a list of commands came up and they had to move the mouse again.

"There might be another way to do this," 2 mentioned, "but I don't know what it is; I've seen Maddie do it this way, so this is how I do it, until someone does it faster." They moved the cursor over the Open command and 2 clicked the left button to activate it.

1 didn't really care; he distinctly noted the Delete command before the list was gone, and then carried on as if he hadn't seen it.

The first folder in My Pictures was a new one—the folders were sorted with numbers 0 to 9 first and then A to Z. And, not surprisingly, the first folder in the list happened to be labeled, "1 pic—G-A".

"Either that folder is wasted space with only a single picture in it," 2 commented, "or it has something to do with you. Let's check it out."

They opened the folder and, amazingly, both of 2's predictions turned out to be correct. The folder contained a single internet image of 1—a larger picture that probably could have been a movie poster.

1 and 2 stared at it for a moment, and then 2 said, "Meh; I've seen better pictures of you. It must be the picture she picked for the piñata."

"Oh," 1 said disdainfully.

"Hey!" said a familiar voice. Beside them, 9 was climbing up the desk. When he made it to the top he said, "7 told us that someone was showing 1 how to use the computer; and I'm here to put a stop to it."

"Uh… It's kind of late for that," 2 said sheepishly.

"Indeed," 1 agreed. "Let's go back to the first window."

"Why?"

"There was something else I wanted to see; maybe more pictures of us."

Whatever 1 was plotting to do, 2 wasn't overly concerned. It wasn't like he was going to break the computer. 1's plan might even be kind of funny, if his hunch was right. They started moving the cursor once again.

"2, what are you doing? Why are you listening to him?" 9 demanded.

"I'm _not_ listening to him, I'm _obliging_ him," 2 corrected. "Besides, I'm curious."

"Oh, great…" 9 sighed, smacking his forehead into his palm.

Back in the list of folders, 1 directed the cursor back over the file with his picture in it and clicked the right button, opening the list of commands. Then, before the others could do anything, he jerked the cursor down to Delete, reached over, and hit the left button.

"Haha! Success is mine!"

"…_That_ was your plan?" 2 asked.

"Yes! Now that file is gone! ... Right?"

2 pointed to the screen. A message had popped up: "Are you sure you want to send '1 pic—G-A' to the Recycle Bin?"

"…What…?"

2 sighed again. "For you, we'll click yes," he decided, moving the cursor again.

"And that will get rid of it, right?"

"Yep. Pretty much."

"Ah. Good."

With the file banished the to the Recycle Bin and his plan completed, 1 decided to leave before the others losers showed up. He walked back out of the room with an evil smile on his face, sure that he would sleep very well that night.

"2, are you sure that it was okay to let him do that?" 9 asked as they went back to where the others were hiding.

"Don't worry about him, 9; we all know that when Ginny-Ann can't find that file, she'll go back on the internet and get the same one again. The child is cute and all, but she's very predictable. I don't understand what 8 sees in her…"

"What if he starts fiddling around with it later? He could break the whole thing."

"1 isn't motivated enough to do that. It was a tool for his own ends; he's gotten those ends and he's done with it."

"…"

"Come on, 9. Really? He thinks he's actually accomplished something. Let's just let him feel smart this one time, okay?"

"Okay… 7's not going to like this."

"I know. Brace yourself."

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Ginny-Ann returned from lunch, dragging Maddie after her, to see the picture she selected for the piñata.

"Its not my favorite," she was explaining, "but it's the biggest I could find. Easy to blow up. It's still pretty good."

Despite he fears about Ginny-Ann's teetering sanity, Maddie was interested to see what pictures her cousin had chosen. She was also impressed at the level of quality low-budget planning the soon-to-be-10-year-old had put into her party. True, party stores didn't really carry "9" merchandise, but they had black plates, napkins, and table clothes that could be painted or printed on. Ginny-Ann had even found a great picture of 7 that she was going to copy about 20 times and laminate them for place mats.

Very impressive… and very obsessive…

Ginny-Ann sat in the chair and Maddie pulled up another one from nearby.

"That's weird," Ginny-Ann said. "I thought I minimized this tab. Wait… The folder's gone!"

"What do you mean?"

"I labeled the folder '1 pic—G-A", so it would be very first and I could find it faster. But it's gone!"

Maddie took the mouse and began scrolling through the files. Sure enough, the folder wasn't there.

"Are you sure you typed it right?"

"I'm absolutely sure; I was looking right at it!"

"Well…"

Maddie didn't know what to say. She wasn't a computer person; how should she know what had happened to the file? It was an old computer, after all. Maybe it had eaten the file while Ginny-Ann wasn't looking.

But then, things disappeared like this all the time in this house. Why should computer files be any different? They'd probably find he file again in, like, 15 years, in a strange place that no one would have guessed.

"Go find the picture again online," Maddie suggested. "I'm sure it's still _there_."

It was true. Whatever had happened to the folder, the internet still had it, and she could copy and paste it a million times if she wanted to, for free. Ginny-Ann maximized the Google tab, which was stopped right at the picture she had chosen.

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Author's Notes…

I use the term "retarded" _very_ liberally, _just_ to spite the liberal agenda. But never about someone who really _is_ mentally retarded. But if something is retarded, you bet I'm going to say that. I know there could be someone on this tiny little fandom who might take offense—even though the comment has _nothing_ to do with them. (Remember, this is 1 trying to spite 2. Think about it.)

Um… Nothing left to say right now… Peace out, world. X)


	7. June 29

So, it's the day before the party. It's so tense, the air pretty much ties you down to your chair. Emotions are wild, tempers are short, genius has taken a vacation in the Bahamas, dogs and cats are living side by side, and all is CHAOS!

Er… Not really _chaos_, per se, but it still isn't very comfortable. Or maybe it's just the Southeastern coastal humidity getting to everyone.

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_June 29_

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That morning started out with a fun, dangerous-looking new game of 7's invention, which of course involved the back stairs. Ginny-Ann's flip-flop sandals were big enough to hold three of them at a time—only two if 8 was riding—and, just by looking, she got the impression that it would be fun to ride the sandals down the steps like a sled.

But who was bold enough to go with her on the maiden voyage?

9 volunteered to ride with her, of course; he somehow managed to talk 5 into it as well. Not to be left out, 6 and the twins took the other sandal.

"Are you sure you don't want to try it?" 5 asked 2. "It looks like fun, right?"

"If it's so much fun, why don't _you_ ride it?"

"Um…"

"It's a nice offer, 5, but you go on. This old man would have a much better time watching you crazy young people having fun. Trust me."

5 made an unsure, nervous noise.

"Go on," 2 insisted, pushing him back toward the others. "You'll have a blast. If all else fails, try to land on 9 and 7; they'll break your fall."

There were 20 steps to surf down before hitting the floor. It was going to be really fast and probably a little painful if they crashed, but it would be a lot of fun.

The two sandals were poised precariously on the top step, with 7 and 6 each steering. On her signal, all they had to do was lean forward just a little bit and the sandals went sliding down at about two miles an hour—for them, _very_ fast, indeed.

The ride went smoothly, until they all skidded into the tiny stairwell and slammed into the wall. They all landed in a heap on the floor, out of breath and a little disoriented.

"Are you all okay?" 2 called form the top step. For a moment, the only answer he got was a lot of painful moans, groans and flickers. And then—

"_That was __awesome__!"_ 3 exclaimed.

"Let's do it again!" 5 added.

But they wouldn't get the chance. Heavy, tired footsteps were coming toward them—Grammy, most likely. Luckily there was a stack of clothes on the floor that they all ran behind. These people came and went in the big room so much, they had gotten used to ducking and covering on a dime, dropping everything they were doing to avoid detection.

It was, in fact, Grammy. She stepped into the stairwell, looked up the stairs, and hollered Ginny-Ann's name into the bog room above. She waited a moment and got no answer, sighed tiredly, and turned to leave. But not before stepping on one of the sandals and barely stumbling.

"Damn kids," Grammy muttered. When Ginny-Ann wasn't around, her language could be startlingly uncensored. "I thought I told her not to leave her damn shoes in the stairwell." Still muttering to herself, she trudged off to look for Ginny-Ann elsewhere.

The six stitchpunks felt bad—once again, their fun spelled trouble for the girls. But there was nothing to be done about it now.

Except 2's idea, to not touch anything, which was totally impossible.

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Maddie came in the house for a glass of water, sore and sweaty from day two of shoveling gravel. She found Ginny-Ann at the kitchen table, sketching something with a pencil and paper.

"Maddie, are your shoes where you left them?" Ginny-Ann suddenly asked.

Maddie had two pairs of flip-flops, herself: one pair was pink, and the other pair had the Pepsi logo all over it. The Pepsi pair was older and more worn, and wider too, so she wore them to work outside. The pink pair was sitting by the door where she had left them before going out and switching shoes.

"Yes; they're exactly where I left them," she agreed.

"Well _mine_ weren't," Ginny-Ann complained. "I left them upstairs by my bed, but Grammy tripped over them in the stairwell. She got mad at me and said that I couldn't come downstairs if I kept leaving my stuff lying around. I _know_ I didn't leave my shoes in the stairwell—they were by my bed, I swear!"

"Maybe you're forgetting things?" Maddie suggested. It happened to her all the time; it didn't seem impossible.

"It's like 6 and 7 surfed them down the stairs. They're the only ones who would—7's the brave one, and 6 is nuts enough to try it, so it was probably them."

Maddie sighed and tried to think of something witty to retaliate with, but all she could come up with was, "Sure… Right…"

"I'm going to catch them this time," Ginny-Ann announced, showing her sketch to Maddie. It looked like an animal trap, a cardboard box propped up on something, with something hidden beneath it to lure the animal inside.

"It's a 6 trap," the younger girl explained proudly. "I'll put some paper and a pen underneath the box to get him—he _loves_ to draw. I think I'll use that plastic Christmas tree in the toy bin to hold it up; it'll be flimsy and give way if he touches the box. Isn't it great?"

"Yes, Gin. It's great," Maddie agreed, re-filing her water. "Have you gotten the picture for the piñata yet?"

"Yeah, this morning. Mom's picking up the piñata from the party store today. I can't wait for tomorrow! We _finally_ get to kill 1!"

The whole fangirl thing was starting to wear thin for Maddie, but she had to admit it: the idea of beating the 1 piñata made her smile.

_I wish she didn't have to copy me to the extreme,_ she thought as she headed back out. _If I like something, she _loves_ it, so if I love something, she goes _insane_ over it. Maybe telling her about the movie was a bad idea…_

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"Ha! You call _that_ a 6 trap?"

Of course, Ginny-Ann talked so loudly that all the stitchpunks had heard her explain her plan. She had set it up in the big room while they hadn't been looking. But 6 had returned, accompanied by 4, on a casual but decidedly romantic walk around the house.

That was where they had run into it: a cardboard box, supported on a plastic toy Christmas tree, hiding a scrap of paper and a pen beneath it. 6 wasn't impressed. It was like Ginny-Ann hadn't paid attention to the movie at all!

"_You're too smart to fall for a trap like that,"_ 4 insisted. She walked over and kicked the tree out of the way, causing the box to fall. _"That'll show her. She can't outsmart you, 6!"_

6 barely had time to feel flattered before a menacing voice growled, "You'd better take that back!"

Sometime while they hadn't been paying attention, 8 had come up behind them, and he wasn't going to stand for _anyone_ insulting Ginny-Ann and her marvelous creation. 4 got scared and slunk behind 6.

"Now you," 8 said, pointing at 6, "are going to get under the box and make that trap work."

"What? Why?"

"Because she's too smart for her plan to fail."

"Who?"

"Ginny-Ann, you moron! Get in the box!"

"…No. No! I don't want to and I'm not gonna!"

6 felt pretty brave saying all this, but he knew that it was a bad idea. 8 was already mad and now he wasn't getting his way. He growled again and began advancing on them. This was going to hurt…

"Wait. Hit me all you want, but leave 4 alone."

"Why should I?" 8 demanded. "_She_ set off the trap. I oughta pound her _twice_ as hard."

4 gasped in terror and began to shake. _"6, do something!"_

6 didn't know what to do, but he knew that he was mad. 8 could pummel him all day, but threatening 4—that was going too far! Suddenly unable to contain himself, he ran right up to 8 and kicked him in the shin as hard as he could, punctuating it with an angry yell.6 gave 4 a signal to run and she dashed away.

"Yeah, that's right! Don't mess with me," 6 warned. "I know karate!"

"No you don't! You just kicked me in the shin!"

"…Yeah. I know how to do that too."

"Shut up," 8 growled. "You're dead this time!"

Well, _that_ plan obviously hadn't worked; but at least 4 was out of the way now. 6 turned around and ran away as fast as he could, hoping that if he screamed loud enough someone might hear and come help him. In the meantime, 8 chased him around the big room: jumping over, climbing under, and running around the various pieces of furniture in the huge space.

Luckily for 6, he was much smaller and more agile than 8, who began to lose his stamina after a while. But the advantage was completely lost when he tripped over the toy Christmas tree—left lying in the middle of the room—and fell flat on his face. When he looked up, 8 was looming over him, cracking his knuckles and laughing evilly to himself.

"Get ready for _pain_, loser."

"8!"

8 turned around. 7 was standing not too far away, a nonplussed scowl on her face, and 4 was cowering behind her.

"What are you doing?" 7 demanded.

"Um… Uh… I was just, uh… I mean, um…" 8 stammered. His eyes darted around, looking for a quick escape in case 7 pulled out a spear. Instead, all she did was continue to glare death at him; he could feel her eyes burning holes into his head.

"Get out," she commanded, cutting off his babbling and pointing back the way she had came, from the attic.

"But—"

"Get out, get out!" she repeated, raising her voice.

8 shut up and walked very quickly in the direction she was pointing.

"Thank you for coming to get me, 4," 7 said to the younger girl. 4 gave her a big triumphant smile, and then scurried over to help 6 to his feet.

"_Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine," 6 assured her, giving her a comforting hug.

Aw, how sweet; 7 couldn't help but smile as well. And then she noticed the box, knocked slightly askew, with the paper and pen sticking out of it.

"Is that Ginny-Ann's 6 trap? _That's all_?"

On hearing the comment, 8 made an annoyed, slightly agonized noise, and banged his head against the wall a few times before walking out of the room.

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Ginny-Ann came up after dinner, having sort of forgotten about the trap. And then she saw the box and remembered. It had been tripped—6 _must_ be inside!

She walked right up to it, dropped to her knees, and yanked the box away with an excited, "HA! GOTCHA!"

But nothing was there.

Ginny-Ann rocked back on her knees, her arms folded indignantly across her chest, and pouted angrily and pensively. Her trap would need revision; it would seem that 6 hadn't lost quite as much of his mind as the movie implied.

Maddie would want to hear of this. She ran back downstairs to share the news with her big cousin.

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Author's Notes…

I only recently noticed that I've done a lot of product placement in this story—Coco Puffs, Foldger's, Pepsi, and I think there are a few others. I'm not brand centric, but at my grandmother's house it's kinda hard to ignore it all. You can see what kind of person my Gammy has become in her old age. When she isn't beating herself (and myself!) up trying to make things perfect, she's really a very kind and generous woman. -_-0


	8. June 30

Today is the big day! Piñatas will be whacked, allergies will be aggravated, romantic interludes will be botched, and all that Maddie will be able to do is roll her eyes. It's party time!

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_June 30_

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Maddie got a break from yard work today—even though it was the middle of the week, everyone was coming over after work for Ginny-Ann's birthday. Grammy had bought two different cakes for the occasion: one was a big fudge cake from Wal-Mart which was so dark it was almost black; the other was a marble cake slathered in two and a half inches of gritty white frosting and blobs of gritty blue frosting that were supposed to resemble balloons.

Maddie knew better than to touch the blue: blue food dye had a nasty track record of turning her into a bipolar Hulk-like monster. It had destroyed her life as a child when no one would believe her family when they said she had an allergy to food dyes. She may have grown out of this terrible allergy by now, as she had many of her other allergies—but this was one that she _wasn't_ going to tempt. The white and blue cake was really only for Ginny-Ann and the other younger children, who's parties weren't complete without a cake made primarily from thick, nasty frosting.

While Grammy continued to labor in the bedroom until time forced her to take a break and prepare a quick, sloppy dinner to go with the cake, Maddie set about dusting and cleaning up inside.

_Ah… Air conditioner…!_ She thought as she went about the house, armed with a vacuum and a spray can of Pledge. She wondered vaguely what would be for dinner and hoped that it would be hamburgers—standard birthday party fare around this place. Thank goodness; she'd rather starve than eat some of the cheap junk that passed for food in the house.

Upstairs, Ginny-Ann was on the computer. Most likely still looking at pictures of the "9" cast on the Google image search.

Just then, she heard the garage door open and close. It was her aunt Alex, her arms full of Wal-Mart and K-Mart bags, which she deposited on the kitchen table. Aunt Alex was just like her mother: short and fat, once gorgeous and happy, but bitter and tired now.

"Maddie, come over here and pick your gift for Ginny-Ann," she called into the Carolina room where Maddie was still vacuuming. She turned off the vacuum and walked quickly and professionally into the kitchen-dining area.

_What is she talking about? I already made Gin a bracelet,_ Maddie thought.

"Okay, so, I went to the store and picked up some things that she's been wanting," aunt Alex explained, pulling out three cheap toys from a Wal-Mart bag. "Pick one."

Maddie looked at her choices: Pokémon trading cards, a yellow Power Ranger action figure with some kind of rocket glider thing, and a Littlest Pet Shop play set. She stared blankly at her choices for a moment and sighed in her mind.

_She'll play with all these things, like, _once_ and loose the pieces,_ Maddie thought sadly. But she wasn't in the mood for getting fussed at for her superior ethics. Pokémon cards were pretty cool, she supposed…

"The cards," she decided.

"Great," aunt Alex said dismissively. "Then I'll give her the Pet Shop thing, and Kath can give her the Power Ranger."

At least Maddie cared that Ginny-Ann was being horribly spoiled for no reason. Aunt Alex—Ginny-Ann's own mother—didn't care at all. That made Maddie sad.

While Aunt Alex' back was turned, Maddie took a quick peek inside the Wal-Mart bag. Aside from the toys, there were also several DVD's. They were all really good movies, but she hadn't seen most of them yet.

She did, however, notice the familiar cover of the "9" DVD box right away. Despite everything, Maddie had to smile.

_Gin's head is going to pop off her body…_

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That afternoon, the entire lower floor was buzzing, full of people talking and eating hamburgers and watching TV. Maddie's two younger brothers, 16-year-old Ash and three-year-old Hilliard, had commandeered the big room, it's toy box and it's TV set, which meant that the curious stitchpunks were banished to the stairwell if they wanted to catch any of the action.

"Birthdays seem too big to me," 7 remarked. "Look at all these people—it's a mess!"

"They don't seem to mind," 9 pointed out with a shrug. "They _are_ family."

"Big family…"

"I want them to hurry up and get to the piñata," 6 said impatiently, leaning a little too far out the door for a better look. Someone walked past the door on their way to the bathroom, and 5 pulled him back into the stairwell.

"Don't do that!" he scolded. "Someone's going to see you!"

"But… I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, 6. We _all_ want to see the piñata. When it's time, I'm sure we'll hear about it," 9 assured his friend.

"Really?"

"Of course," 7 agreed. "You know Ginny-Ann: she can't keep a thing to herself. When it's time for the piñata, she'll practically scream it loud enough for the world to hear. Trust me. We'll know."

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Maddie knew this as well, but… Ginny-Ann seemed just a little hyper, even now when they were only doing presents. It was probably all the sugar in the two slices of cake the child had just ingested.

Ginny-Ann loved all her gifts, of course. Though everyone did have to stop and ask Maddie when she had found the time and money to buy a pack of Pokémon cards. She just smiled rigidly and didn't answer, for she had no comment.

But it was the "9" DVD that made Maddie start to worry just a little bit. She knew that Ginny-Ann was going to love it, but the kid screeched almost loud enough for car alarms to go off outside, and she started laughing like a mad scientist, clutching the box to her chest and cuddling it like it was the Ring of power.

No one else seemed to think much of it—Ginny-Ann could be an excitable, eccentric girl, they excused; and anyway, it was her birthday. (Not that Maddie could have gotten away with such behavior on _her_ birthday.). But Maddie and her very sensible mother exchanged a definite look of concern.

"It was the blue frosting on the cake," her mother whispered to her. "I can see it. Look at her, Maddie—you know that face."

Maddie shuddered and nodded agreement. That face was her own, in the crazy-happy faze. This was the bipolar effect that blue dyes had on her: slight set-offs sent her into extremes. Something nice happened, and she was as frantically happy as she could possibly get. But if something didn't go her way—even not the way she had expected—she would become angry enough to be violent and dangerous, an idiosyncrasy which had earned her many a trip to the principle's office as a first grader.

"Good Lord," Maddie grumbled to her mother. "And the piñata's next, too. I hope that everything goes as planned…"

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7 had been kidding when she said that Ginny-Ann would scream loud enough for the whole world to hear—of course, she couldn't scream _that_ loud, but it would still be pretty loud. So imagine their surprise when, quite suddenly, a high-pitched ringing sounded through the house:

"PIÑATA! PIÑATA TIME!"

For the little stitchpunks and their equally little ear drums, the sound grated like a knife, and the more mature ones became slightly concerned. Not even _they_ were that excited about the piñata.

Fortunately, Ash and Hilliard, who were still in the big room, high-tailed it down the stairs as fast as they could, leaving the big room empty at last. With the human boys gone and most of the other people filing out into the backyard, the stitchpunks were finally free to leave the stairwell.

And the drawing table was the perfect viewing spot for the long awaited event. Presently, only four of them were there; 5 and 6 ventured off to find the rest of the wayward audience, leaving 9 and 7 alone to watch the previews—and what previews there would be…

"So, 7, now that we're alone…?"

"Don't you start that now. They'll be back in a few minutes."

9 didn't care. He was about to suggest they start making out anyway, but his line of thought was interrupted by a sudden high-pitched and literally _painfully_ familiar scream from outside.

_Ginny-Ann has _got_ to stop that,_ he thought, looking out the window to see what was going on. Below in the yard, the birthday girl was having a temper tantrum. While she stood in the middle of the yard, wailing like a three-year-old, several people had clustered around her, trying to figure out what she was so upset about. Off to the side, Maddie was holding the heavy-looking piñata, and Ash was carrying a small rope coiled over his shoulder; they seemed to be having a heated argument, taking turns pointing at different trees around the yard.

"Oh, what's the matter with her _now_," 7 muttered, shaking her head.

One of the other cousins reached out to touch Ginny-Ann, possibly to try and reach through the angry haze she was caught in. The act was meant with good intentions, but it was met with a punch to the face from Ginny-Ann. The other girl backed away quickly, just barely dodging the blow.

"Oh boy. I'm now concerned on a number of levels."

"Forget concerned. I'm scared."

All of this happened just in time for their friends to show up, climb up on the desk and catch this last part of their commentary.

"What?" 2 asked. "What did we miss?"

"Ginny-Ann's throwing a horrible fit, and we don't know why," 7 answered, pointing out the window.

Of course, 8 had to run over and see what was going on. He looked down just in time see Ginny-Ann pick up a nearby lawn chair and launch it the same little girl who she had tried to punch. Several adults ganged up on her, and her terrified cousin retreated into her mommy's arms.

"Wow… She is _so_ hot…"

The other eight of them stared at him with a mix of different expressions.

"What?" he demanded when he realized they were staring.

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How in the world they were actually able to get the piñata going after that, Maddie wasn't sure. It was just as she and her mother had feared: the tree they were planning to use for the piñata had a bird's nest in it that they hadn't noticed before; therefore, it was imperative that they find a new venue.

Naturally, this was the one little thing it took to set Ginny-Ann off. So while she and Ash tried to figure out a different tree with a low branch they could use, their poor little cousin had the worst meltdown they had seen in years. She had attacked their other cousin Kathy twice, and screamed that she was going to blow up the house like a terrorist before the adults managed to drag her inside.

About 30 minutes later the haze cleared and Ginny-Ann could see straight once again. Her meltdown had left her with a slight headache, and she couldn't remember most of what had happened. She remembered the cake and the presents, and then everything else she remembered as a blur.

Well, apparently, this condoned _everything_. Ginny-Ann got off with a slap on the wrist, and Kathy very cautiously forgave her for throwing the lawn chair at her. Maddie kind of couldn't believe it: when she had meltdowns here, she would get horrible probation from playing upstairs.

And thusly, the party continued as if nothing were different.

At the very least, the piñata was filled with _really_ good candy—Dove dark chocolate and flavored Tootsie Rolls, some of Maddie's favorites. She was way too big for a piñata this size, but all she wanted was one _good_ swing at the side with 1's picture on it. Once again, despite everything that had happened, it made her smile again. It was a pretty clever idea, after all; and even though she paled in comparison to Ginny-Ann, she was a "9" fangirl at heart.

It suddenly dawned on her that this was her last week living here. She had spent all of June working here, and yet she had gotten nothing substantial done. She was starting college in two weeks, which she was _so_ ready for she couldn't stand it.

As if _that_ wasn't enough on her plate, even _more_ people were coming the same week school started.

_Family…_

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Author's Notes…

She didn't really throw a chair at anybody; but she probably would have if the right conditions had been met. That was _sad_. -.-0

Lol, last chapter coming up. I'm so excited!


	9. July 2

The conclusion.

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_July 2_

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It was the middle of the night, once again—generally, the safest time for the Stitchpunks to come out since everyone was asleep. 2 had been in the big room on his own, though the others hadn't been sure what he was doing. Then he dragged them all up to the computer desk to show them something he had found.

"No one's interested in a computer lesson at this time of night," 1 told him sourly.

"It's not a computer lesson," 2 retorted. "I've been doing some searching on this thing."

"You can do that?" 7 asked.

"Ginny-Ann does it all the time. I've been watching her, trying to figure out how she does it. And I've finally got it."

"So, what did you search for?"

"A new home."

(silence)

"_What's the matter with this place?"_ 3 asked.

"Um, aside from Ginny-Ann's mood swings?"

"And her constant running up and down the stairs at all hours of the day?"

"And her always looking for us and setting traps for us?"

"_And everyone in this house being so cranky all the time?"_

"And not being able to roam around whenever we feel like?"

"And not being able to do anything without getting the girls in trouble?"

"And just, you know, messing up our lives in general?"

3 considered the list of offenses. _"Hm… I guess you're all right."_

"So, anyway," 2 continued, drawing their attention to the monitor, "I've been searching some ideal new places to go. I think I may have found a good one: there's a library about half a mile away. It's sort of a walk from here, but if we can find a way to get there—"

"_A library? That would be awesome!"_ 4 exclaimed. _"Can we go there __now__?"_

"_Yeah! Let's go now!"_ 3 agreed.

"Wait a minute, you guys," 9 interrupted. "Half a mile is a long walk."

"And it would mean crossing a lot of traffic," 2 added. "We need to find a way to cross it quickly."

"Um…?" 6 said, raising his hand.

"Yes, 6?"

"There's a toy car in the toy box, and it has a remote control. Could we use that?"

"How big is it?"

"Oh… Not big enough for all of us…"

"No, no, it's a good idea. We can still use it."

"A library means a lot of people _all_ day," 5 pointed out.

"But it closes at six o'clock, and doesn't open again until eight-thirty."

"Where would we stay during the day?" 7 asked.

"They have closets and storage rooms all over the place; I've looked."

"_Aw; closets again?"_ 3 moaned.

"_But, 3, it's a library. It wouldn't be so bad."_

"She's right; it sounds pretty good to me," 9 agreed.

"It would be a nice change, wouldn't it?" 7 said pensively.

"Could be fun…" 5 said cautiously.

Now that the pleasant people were all in agreement, they all turned to see what 1 and 8 would say.

"We're doing perfectly fine here," 1 insisted. "Why should we leave now?"

"No more stairs, 1"

"…No more stairs?"

"Yep; no more stairs."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?"

Still no answer from 8, torn between going with the others and being left behind wit the love of his life.

"Um… Uh… I, uh…."

"Oh stop it," 1 scolded, stomping hard on 8's foot. "You've never even spoken to Ginny-Ann once; and you think it's hot when she throws things at people. It's _scary_. You need to get away from her!"

8 sighed and wilted visibly, but he didn't say anything.

Officially, all nine of them were in.

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It was Maddie's last day at the house. The work was going to be light, mostly just cleaning up in the big room and other bedrooms on the top floor. She never minded dusting, stripping beds and washing the sheets, only to re-make them all. It was methodic and easy, leaving her time to think and dream her little dreamy dreams. Usually, she spent this time planning the many stories and fanfics she would never get around to writing. Lately, she had to admit, most of it had been "9" fanfiction, thanks to her little cousin. But, at the very least, she wasn't fanatic enough to sit there and babble about it to friends and family, expecting them to know exactly what she was talking about.

Of all the fangirls in the world, she was convinced that she was the most sensible by far. Fanatic, but only to herself; allowing her fancy to consume her mind, but only when she had nothing else to really think about; never expecting the random people around her to understand her and just deal with her—like Ginny-Ann did.

After noon, all of her work was done and she sat down at the computer for a well-earned hour or two of writing. (Perhaps you can guess what she was writing…?) As she sat down at the desk and pulled out the keyboard, she noticed something by the monitor. Ginny-Ann had an annoying love of WebKinz dolls; she got a new one at least once a month, it seemed. And whenever she activated a new one, she left the plastic cover of the id tag on the computer desk. Maddie had watched her activate a new one yesterday. And now the id cover sat there, bearing words:

_Sorry for all the trouble. Love, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9._

Maddie sighed, unimpressed, and pulled a sticky note and a pen out of a drawer. She scribbled a note of her own and left it beside the id cover, with an arrow pointing at it:

_Ginny-Ann, I know you did this._

The last of her Stitchpunk trouble behind her, Maddie sat back and cruised through her set of documents, trying to decide which one she should work on first…

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And thus, my June concluded and my July began. XD Thanks to all those who read and reviewed. I'm glad you all liked it! And now, for an end credit theme song!


	10. July 2, continued

I had forgotten that 1 was plotting his revenge. This is funny. XD

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_Epilogue: July 2, continued_

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Maddie had been having so much fun writing her fanfiction, she had lost track of time. It was well past lunch time, and she was hungry. She trotted down the stairs and pulled out bread, mustard, and microwave bacon. Now all that was left for her sandwich was the long-awaited deli meat. They had just run out of sliced deli ham, chicken and turkey, and Grammy had just returned from the store earlier with a new supply. She reached into the drawer where it was kept, but there was none to be found. All she saw was the last few slices of various cheeses and certainly no meats.

"Grammy, where did you put the lunch meat?" she asked her grandmother, who was in the living room.

"It's not in the drawer?"

"No."

Grammy thought for a moment and said, "…Actually, I don't think I remember unpacking the lunch meat." She got up and went to check all the plastic bags and Maddie checked all over Grammy's car. The searched the entire kitchen, but it just wasn't there.

"Oh… I must have left it all at the store. I'm sorry, Maddie."

"It's okay; it happens," Maddie said with an understanding smile. "Oh well. I guess it's pudding for lunch again. Worse things have happened."

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Meanwhile, as the nine Stitchpunks puttered down Basilica Drive on the RC car in the hot sun, 1 was smiling deviously to himself, and it was starting to freak the others out.

"What are you up to this time?" 2 demanded as he steered the car with the RC remote.

"Thosetwo maniacal girl children will be making their lunches right about now," 1 chuckled cruelly.

"_I don't like it when he laughs like that,"_ 4 flickered nervously, cuddling closer to 6 for protection.

"Me neither," he agreed.

2 rolled his eyes. "They're making their lunch. So what?"

1 laughed again. "When they go into the refrigerator, they will find the brand new lunch meat they've so been looking forward to all day… distinctly missing!"

Everyone paused.

"…And?" 5 asked.

"Little will they think to look for their lunch meat… in the _vent_… where _I_ put it! And then, in a few days, the whole house will smell like rotten ham, just in time for their family to arrive! That should teach them to make a piñata out of _me_!"

Everyone rolled their eyes, groaned, and shook their heads.

"_When we get to the library,"_ 3 asked, _"Can we lock him in a closet? 1 loves closets."_

"I like that idea," 7 agreed.


	11. Credits

Thank you to all those who read and reviewed, particularly Invader Razi, who caught the Potter Puppet Pals reference in chapter 1, ala 1. XD You've been a great audience, and, as always, I appreciate the reviews and the love.

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_Canadian Idiot_

_Weird Al Yankovic_

Don't wanna be a Canadian idiot.

Don't wanna be some beer swillin' hockey nut.

And do I look like some frostbitten hose-head?

I never learned my alphabet from A to Zed.

They all live on doughnuts and moose meat

And they leave the house without packin' heat—

Never even bring their guns to the mall.

And you know what else is too funny?

Their stupid monopoly money.

Can't take 'em seriously at all.

Well maple syrup and snow's what they export.

They treat curling just like it's a real sport.

They think their silly accent is so cute.

Can't understand a thing their talking aboot.

Sure they got their national health care,

Cheaper meds, low crime rates and clean air—

Then again well they got Celine Dion.

Eat their weight in Kraft macaroni,

And dream of driving a zamboni

All over Saskatchewan.

Don't wanna be a Canadian idiot.

We'll figure out their temperature in Celsius.

See the map—they're hovering right over us.

Tell you the truth, it makes me kinda nervous.

Always hear the same kind of story:

Break your nose and they'll just say sorry.

Tell me what kinda freaks are that polite?

It's gotta mean they're all up to something,

So quick, before they see it coming,

Time for a pre-emptive strike!


End file.
